


Safe Now

by koalathebear



Category: Homeland
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:08:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5416409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the end of season 5 after Quinn is rescued and is in hospital.  I started writing it after "New Normal".  I just thought it would be nice to have Franny come back to Berlin.  Still don't know if it's supposed to be Franny or Frannie though ...</p><p>Episode 5.12 never happened *la la la la la la la la la*  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Franny

_Landstuhl Regional Medical Centre_

Quinn's eyes open slowly and he blinks a few times to try to focus his vision. Nausea and dizziness overwhelm him momentarily and he closes his eyes again, willing the nausea to subside.

Scowling, he pulls the nasal cannula off and pushes it aside impatiently. He's glad to find that the damned breathing tube is finally out of his throat and he can breathe unassisted. It still hurts though … the mere action of inhaling and exhaling is more than a little painful but there's something comforting about the discomfort. 

He feels like shit but he's alive.

He has a recollection of Carrie's panicked face, her voice demanding answers of him frantically. He remembers trying to oblige but can't remember if he succeeded or not. They would have sought answers, any information he could have given them on the Jihadists. He wonders if was able to provide them any usable intelligence or if he had been completely incapacitated with the after-effects of the Sarin.

He remembers seeing Saul's grave face, Dar Adal's concerned face … and Astrid as well. There's something surreal about staring up into the concerned faces of Astrid and Carrie side by side. He wonders if they argued, sharp glares across the bed or if they managed to put their differences aside.

He turns his head now and sees Carrie sitting at his bedside, fast asleep in the chair. Her head is slumped down onto her chest, tousled blonde hair falling across her face. She's snoring quietly. It's clear that she's been there for some time. 

His eyes widen slightly as he sees that there's someone else sitting at his side. The little girl blinks at him owlishly, her mop of red hair a sharp splash of colour against the stark whiteness of the hospital room.

"Franny," he rasps in a soft voice. She's sitting on a chair that's been boosted with a couple of cushions and a colouring book and an iPad are in front of her on a table to keep her entertained. There's a glass of chocolate milk on the table and a half-eaten banana.

"You're Quinn," she remarks gravely, her eyes very wide and round as they stare at him curiously.

"Yes," he acknowledges. "Last time I saw you – you were a little baby," he remembers.

"How are you feeling?" she asks him and her almost grown-up air makes him smile. He can see why Carrie missed her daughter so much. 

_You... are the most important, the... the best thing that I have ever done. You make up for every mistake that I've ever made._

"I've been better," he admits wryly.

"You were very sick. Mommy thought you were going to die." She glances over at her mother, a frown on her childish forehead as she stares back at the man in the hospital bed.

"I'm sorry I made her worried," Quinn said apologetically.

"She cried. A lot," Franny told him matter-of-factly, no hint of reproach in her voice.

Quinn's throat tightened. "I thought you were in America with your Aunt Maggie," he remarked, changing the topic.

Franny nodded. "I was. I went to stay with Aunt Maggie because it was too dangerous to be here."

"But you're back now."

"Mommy says it's safe now." The little girl reaches out to take his hand. "Because of you."


	2. Astrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even half-dead Peter Quinn manages to be a smart-ass - and in German, too.

Astrid's foot swings idly as she sits by Quinn's bedside watching over him. She ignores the pile of magazines and books the staff keep bringing in to try to entertain his visitors. 

Quinn's extremely pale but the tube has finally been removed and his breathing although still raspy is now reassuringly steady.

In the corner of the room, Carrie's curled up on a fold-out bed provided by the doctors, finally surrendering to sleep albeit with extreme reluctance.

"I'm fine," she had snapped when Astrid had offered to take the next shift of watching over Quinn.

"You look worse than Peter and he's the one who's supposed to be half-dead," Astrid had told her dryly.

"Fine, but wake me up if anything changes," she had ordered the other woman before finally falling asleep. Astrid had rolled her eyes at Carrie's orders, causing Carrie to automatically start rolling _her_ eyes. It was a dangerous vicious circle.

Saul Berenson sticks his head through the doorway. " _Still_ no change," Astrid calls out before he can say anything and without turning her head. Saul opens his mouth and closes it. He leaves wordlessly rather than risk one of Astrid's particularly cutting glares.

"I _said_ I'd call if there was any change," Astrid mutters acerbically as she ignores yet another phone call from Dar Adal.

She then glances over at the man on the hospital bed and frowns slightly, suddenly certain that she's seen a flicker of movement. "So how long have you been awake?" she demands coolly.

"Long enough," he replies in a hoarse voice, his eyes still closed. 

"Any particular reason why you're pretending to be asleep, Peter?" she demands.

"I'm sick of being offered pain meds. Sick of being fussed over. If I'm about to die, then fucking asking me every five minutes how I'm feeling isn't going to change any of that," he mutters.

Astrid raises her eyebrows for a moment and shakes her head in exasperation.

" _Idiot_ ," she mutters.

" _Verrückte_ ," Quinn responds even though he is still keeping his eyes closed and anyone passing by would assume that he was still fast asleep.

" _Trottel_ ," Astrid counters.

" _Alpha Kevin_ ," he announces unexpectedly.

Astrid's lips twitch and she prepares to utter an even worse insult. Before she can speak, Quinn opens his eyes and his gaze meets hers for a moment. " _Großhirnkastratin_ ", he mutters before closing his eyes again. 

Astrid, in the midst of taking a sip from her can of Diet Coke starts choking and covers her mouth to avoid waking Carrie.

"Holy Jesus, Peter - who the hell taught you _THAT_ one?" she demands in equal parts horror, disbelief and amusement. 

Her mouth curves in a genuine smile for the first time in days. Peter Quinn's going to be all right.


	3. Jonas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonas stops by the hospital.

There's a movement in the doorway and Carrie looks up over Quinn's unconscious body and stiffens.

Jonas' face is calm and unemotional. His light eyes miss nothing, travelling from Franny (curled up fast asleep at Quinn's feet on the bed like she's a puppy even though there's a fold-out bed in the corner of the room), to Carrie who is sitting at Quinn's bedside, gripping one of his hands in hers.

Carrie doesn't release Quinn's hand immediately but waits a few moments before getting up and walking across the room. Jonas leans down and brushes his lips coolly across hers in an almost impersonal greeting.

"How did you know I was here?" she asks him.

"Otto."

"How did you get in?"

It was a fair question. Landstuhl was a military hospital for American military personnel. Glancing towards the door, she saw that Jonas' escort was standing 

"Otto," he replies again. Carrie nodded. Otto Düring and his vast network of contacts that seemed to span the globe.

Jonas glances over at the bed. "I saw the video … it was … horrific." Carrie flinches. "Then all over the Internet - a mysterious blonde woman in the Hauptbahnhof tunnels with a gun…" His voice is matter of fact but his eyes are questioning.

"I'm fine," she assures him. "Now."

"And he'll live?" Jonas asks her and Carrie hesitates. "I think so. I hope so," she tells him honestly.

"A colleague or a friend?" he questions her, a rueful smile on his face.

"A bit of both …" she replies.

"And probably something more."

"He's helped me … a lot … he's always been there for me."

"Is it guilt you feel for him or love?" he asks her bluntly.

"I'm sorry for the things I said to you," she tells him, ignoring his question and the flicker of frustration that darkens his eyes. "Sorry for everything."

He shrugs. "I've packed your clothes and they're in suitcases by the door," he tells her matter-of-factly. "Franny's books are there, too."

Carrie meets his gaze squarely, tears in her eyes. Even though Quinn's unconscious or asleep, there's something humiliating about being dumped so unceremoniously in front of him.  
"So that's it? We're just we're just going say good-bye like none of this ever happened?" She asks him.

"It happened," he acknowledges.

"I was happy. Franny was happy. I think you were, too."

"Yeah, I was."

Carrie thinks for a moment. "I guess we can't just pick up where we left off." She shrugs, a bitter smile twisting her mouth.

"Carrie – "

"No, you've said enough. I'm not going to beg you for another chance. Is that what you came here for Jonas? To watch me beg you? Please Jonas – give me one more chance? Take me back? We can do better this time?" Her voice is tense and angry.

"I'm sorry. This is not easy for me, either," he tells her softly.

Carrie's smile is twisted. "I guess we can't just put everything back to the way it was – whatever that was…"

"I do love you, you know," he tells her, his voice harsher than he intends.

"If you knew the real me, you probably wouldn't," she tells him honestly, her smile wry and her eyes sad.

_I don't know how you live with yourself …_

"I never got the chance," he starts to tell her but she shakes her head. There was a time when she would have been crying, begging him for another chance … wanting to be back with him … but now after having sat by Quinn's bed for hours on end watching the rise and fall of his chest and having the time to introspect and simply think … there was a new clarity to her thoughts.

Jonas glances at Franny and his eyes soften. "I've missed her. And you." Carrie goes to the bed and picks up Franny, bring her sleeping figure over to Jonas who kisses the little girl on the forehead. Franny stirs slightly but does not awaken.

Jonas glances over at Quinn's unconscious form again. The man has been through hell and back and has a shared history with Carrie that he will never know or be able to understand. 

"Goodbye Carrie," Jonas says finally, his eyes full of regret.


	4. Dar Adal & Saul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dar Adal comes to visit Quinn.

Carrie glances up from her book as the door opens.

"How's he doing?" Dar asks quietly.

Carrie's brows draw together in a deep frown. "He had a conversation with Astrid, even one with Franny the other night … just always seems to be asleep when I'm around."

"Will he make a full recovery?" Dar asks her.

"No one knows … we can only hope …" she replies with a helpless shrug.

Dar pulls up a chair beside the bed and looks at Quinn's sleeping face. His face is expressionless.

"You know, we found him when he was 16," he muses meditatively.

"No, I didn't know that," Carrie replied.

"Foster home in Baltimore. The group was looking for a street kid. Someone real but also... pretty enough to turn the head of a Hong Kong paymaster. He was a natural from the start." Dar looked down at Quinn's face pointedly. Quinn continued sleeping.

"I believe it," Carrie remarked.

"Couple years later, I sponsored him for training. Youngest guy ever …" Dar pauses, a slight catch in his throat. "It's hard seeing him like this …"

Carrie nods. The door opens and Saul stands in the doorway looking grim. "Carrie – a word?" 

It's not a request, it's an order. Dar raises his eyebrows quizzically and Carrie frowns slightly as she gets up to follow Saul out into the hallway.

Dar Adal leans back in his chair and stares meditatively at Quinn's face. "You can quit the act, Peter – I know you're awake." Quinn doesn't respond, his chest continues to rise and fall, his breathing regular. "Which begs the question of why you're pretending to be asleep," Dar muses thoughtfully.

"And miss that Oscar-worthy performance?" Quinn asks, his voice raspy but rich with sarcasm. He opens his eyes and stares at the older man. "What the fuck was that supposed to be?" he asks incredulously. "Hong Kong? 16? _Pretty?_ I do not know how you come up with this bullshit sometimes," he mutters, shaking his head and then instantly regretting the movement as nausea threatens to overwhelm him.

Dar gives an uncharacteristic smirk. "I rather thought you'd like that one - and it's no more preposterous than some of your cover stories, Peter," Dar retorts

"Fuck you," Quinn counters inelegantly.

"Is there any reason why you're continuing to feign unconsciousness in front of Carrie?" Dar asks curiously. "If it weren't for the assurances of everyone else, she'd probably be convinced that you're brain dead."

"It's none of your fucking business," Quinn retorts tersely.

"In any case, consider me relieved to see you on the mend," Dar Adal tells him and he means it. "When Saul told me about your condition, I was concerned … I even thought I should bring this …" he pulls an envelope out of his jacket pocket and Quinn closes his eyes and starts swearing beneath his breath.

"The fuck. Why do you have that?"

"Rob gave it to me after Aleppo."

"I'm going to rip his head off," Quinn promises.

"Too late," Dar told him soberly. 

"He went back to Al-Raqqah?" Quinn demands.

"Yes."

"Does his family know?"

"Yes. There's no body to bury," Dar replies soberly.

"Fuck."

The two men fall silent, sharing a moment's grief for the man who had been a friend to one and a trusted soldier for the other.

"Put the letter in the drawer," Quinn orders him. "Don't even think about giving it to Carrie."

"My dear Peter, you wrong me. I was only intending to give it to her because I had been led to believe that your condition was most dire." Dar looks genuinely offended as he puts the letter in the drawer beside Quinn's hospital bed.

The door opens and a grim-looking Carrie comes walking in, followed by an angry-looking Saul. They both stare at Quinn who appears to be fast asleep again.

"I thought I heard voices in here …" Carrie mutters in confusion, staring back and forth between Dar Adal and Quinn's face. 

There isn't a flicker of emotion on Dar Adal's face. "He was awake briefly … but then fell asleep again," Dar lies blandly.

"Really?" Carrie demands in confusion.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here while you were awake," Saul tells Quinn's sleeping figure earnestly. "When you wake up, please do me a favour and tell Carrie she's being a goddamned idiot. And fucking selfish." With that, he turns on his heel and leaves.

"I'll be off leaving as well," Dar tells her and with a nod, he's also gone and Carrie is left alone once more with the sleeping figure of Quinn.

She goes to stand by his side, giving a deep sigh as she touches her hand to his brow. "You have some seriously shitty timing, Quinn … or maybe I do …" She shakes her head in frustration. "Saul's fucking pissed at me because I won't go back … I'm out, this is it …" she tells him. 

With a sigh, she picks up her bag. "I've gotta go … but I'll be back tomorrow ... maybe you'll wake up and talk to me … I fucking need someone to talk to …I need to talk to you." With one final look at his face, she leaves the room.

The door closes behind her. Several minutes pass and Quinn's eyes open. He exhales slowly. "Fuck me," he mutters.


	5. Carrie - and Quinn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished because I just re-read a comment by the lovely _FrangipaniFlower_ in which she says: "I think it's time for him to admit to C now that he's awake...or not?" :)
> 
> Just a little scribble to finish off this fic which actually was never supposed to go beyond the first chapter with Frannie-Franny (however the hell you spell it :) Yes my version of events is far fluffier and fuzzier than canon... but hey...
> 
> I'm currently on a Homeland hiatus, but thank you to FrangipaniFlower for smoking me out temporarily :)

Carrie stares long and hard at the figure lying motionless on the bed. Quinn's chest rises and falls steadily, the sunlight casting shadows over his skin, making him look almost healthy again.

Her foot taps restlessly against the floor as her frown deepens and turns into a scowl. 

The door opens and a woman with gentle dark eyes asks her if she wants coffee or tea. 

"I'm fine thanks," she replies absently. She's had her fill of hospital coffee, so weak it barely deserves the name.

The door closes again. Her phone gives a muffle chirrup and she looks down at yet another irritated message from Saul. She deletes it without reading and it and leans back in her chair to stare at Quinn again.

"Quit the fucking act, Quinn - I know you're awake."

His chest continues to rise and fall, his breathing deep and regular - sounding very convincingly as though he's in the deepest of sleeps. Now and then he even gives a faint snore which would fool most people.

Carrie's never been most people at the best of times and now after weeks of having sat in this room at Quinn's bedside watching his ostensibly unconscious body, she's beyond done with the niceties.

"This your way of avoiding me?" she demands. "Afraid I'll want to have a conversation? You're a good actor, I'll give you that - but I know you're awake."

He gives another gentle snore and Carrie swears explosively. "Fine, you're asleep? Then you won't mind if I open this drawer right here and open the letter that I understand is addressed to _me_ and read it." 

A hand snaps out, swift and deliberate, catching hers about the wrist and preventing her from opening the drawer. She stares up into a pair of light eyes that are alert and most definitely lucid.

"You're a fucking pain in the ass, Carrie," he mutters, his hand still gripping her wrist.

"You mind telling me why the act?" she demands.

He slumps back onto the bed, his hand still holding her wrist. "Just wanted to see how long you waited before you put a pillow on my face to put me out of my misery." His words are flippant but his tone is harsh.

Carrie flinches. "I didn't deserve that."

"No, you didn't ..." he agrees and it's as close to an apology as she's going to get.

"You let me come in every day ... comb your hair ... wash your face ... put fucking lip balm on you - and the whole time you were pretending to be asleep."

"Hey you shot me. If not for the vest, I'd be dead."

"So goddamned petty. You shot me, too and do you see me holding a grudge? Let's agree we're even," she retorts.

There's a long silence. He exhales. "Maybe I just didn't know what to say ..."

She glances down at the closed drawer. "So how about you let me open this drawer and read my letter ..."

"How are you so sure it's nice?" he asks, his mouth twisting slightly in an almost smile. His voice is low and hoarse.

"You wouldn't be so scared of me reading it, if it wasn't nice," she replies.

"Don't read it, Carrie. It's just full of that mindless romantic _shit_ you write when you think you're going to die ..."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be." He releases her wrist and stares up at the ceiling blindly. "Maybe I pretended to still be asleep because I knew that once you found out I was fine ... your job would be done and you'd be gone again. This way I had time to think about what I wanted to say." 

Carrie reached out and gripped his hand in hers firmly. He stared down at their clasped hands with incredulity darkening his eyes.

"Let me guess, you need something from me - did I omit some critical piece of intel?"

"Harsh, but understandable," she counters and holds his hand to her cheek.

"Carrie ..." his eyes are wide and disbelieving.

"I'm here," she tells him with a crooked smile. "Not going anywhere ... so let's talk ..."

He reaches his hand up and his fingertip traces along the curve of her cheek wonderingly, the cynical part of him still unable to believe that this was really happening.

"OK fine, I'll start then," she tells him. "I - "

The door to Quinn's room swings open. "Quinn - marvellous to see that you're awake," Dar Adal's unctuous tones fill the room as he pulls up a chair beside his bed and starts speaking, completely oblivious to whether he has just interrupted a conversation or if he's even welcome in the room.

Quinn mutters something beneath his breath that sounds suspiciously like _cockblocking sonofabitch_ and Carrie bites back a smile. 

Quinn's hand tightens around hers and she covers his hand with hers. The two of them have always been terrible at talking, so maybe this is for the best as her eyes and the tightness with which she grips his hand tells him that this time, she's not going anywhere.


End file.
